A Ghost of A Chance
by ecv
Summary: Happy Halloween. Hope you enjoy.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: I always feel bad that everyone writes bright happy stories around the holidays and I trend toward the dark..._

 _Oh well, Happy Halloween!_

Temperance Brennan knew she was going to die.

It didn't seem fair, that her life would end like this, in the trunk of a car, before she had a chance to achieve any of those things she dreamed about.

Before she used all of her knowledge and the things she would learn to find out what happened to her parents.

Dropping the plate hadn't been on her list of things to do that night. It wasn't like she'd planned it between eating dinner and finishing her homework. Who would plan something like that, knowing the end result would be pain for her? But despite her best efforts to be careful, Brennan had become distracted by criticisms of a scientific article she'd read that afternoon, and the dish had slipped from her fingers.

It had seemed like slow motion as that plate fell toward the floor. Brennan hoped it wouldn't break when it hit, but she knew all the laws of science were working against her. The sound it made when it shattered was like a gunshot in that silent house. It was as if time stopped, even though Brennan knew it wasn't possible for time to actually stop, until the adults in the house came running.

Brennan's parents would have asked if she was okay. Would have told her not to move until they swept up the shards, so she didn't step on any in her bare feet. These adults did neither. Adult One, Brennan refused to give him the respect of a name, grabbed her by the arm, his fingers biting into her flesh.

"I told you to be careful," he growled, paying no mind to her bare feet as he pulled her out of the kitchen. By the time they'd made it to the front door, Brennan could see flecks of blood left behind on the carpet.

"See what you did!" he yelled, shaking her by the arm. "You ruined the plate and the carpet. I warned you you'd be punished for ruining things."

Shaking so much she could barely walk, Brennan stumbled behind him as he pulled his keys from his pocket and dragged her to the car.

"Get in there," he commanded, after opening the trunk. Brennan had no fear of dark places, but the thought of being locked in there was almost too much for her. But knowing that in there, Adult One would not visit her room after dark, was reason enough to crawl inside.

The slam of the trunk was loud and Brennan flinched when it came down. That, she figured, was about two days ago, maybe only a day and a half. She'd mostly lost track of time, but could at least tell day from night by the heat of the trunk.

She'd had nothing to drink or eat for that time. She knew she was dehydrated and before much longer, that would lead to her death. It was only a short time now before that happened, and it was becoming harder and harder to regret it.

Her parents appeared first. Her dad, waving at her, with the smile she saw each time she closed her eyes. And her mom, standing at his side, her hand in his. It was how she always pictured them: together and happy. There was no way they could be alive. To think they might be, that they actually put her in these situations, was more than she could contemplate. Therefore, they had to be dead.

Brennan didn't believe in ghosts or heaven. Science had yet to confirm their existence and probably never would. Still, it was nice to think they were together, and that they were watching out for her, even if they couldn't help her.

Long past the stage where she felt she could speak out loud, Brennan said her good-byes in her head. She hoped she'd made them proud. She apologized that she would never get the chance to find them. Wished that she could see them just one more time. Hoped that someone could find her brother Russ and let him know what had happened. Unsure whether he should feel guilty or not, Brennan decided not to worry about that one. That would be up to him to figure out.

After they disappeared, she drifted for a time. It was getting harder for her to focus, not that there was much to focus on the in darkness, other than her suffering. So when another figure appeared in front of her, she assumed he was a hallucination.

"You have to fight," he said to her. "You can't die in this trunk."

Brennan blinked and tried to lick her lips. But there was nothing left to moisten them with. "I can't," she finally croaked.

Her visitor knelt in front of her and rested his hands on his knees. It shouldn't have been possible, there was only room for her in the trunk, yet he seemed to be right next to her.

Tentatively, he reached out and brushed the hair from her face. Brennan was sure she felt the ghost of a touch where there should have been no sensation. "You aren't supposed to die here," he said firmly. "You have to find a way."

He had the kindest brown eyes and Brennan felt as if she was falling in them. She wondered if all her beliefs were wrong. If angels really existed and this man in front of her was one of them.

Or perhaps he was a ghost. Some dead relative she didn't know about coming to help her. Neither seemed plausible, but this close to death, Brennan wasn't sure what she believed really mattered anymore.

"No way," she said again, then closed her eyes in exhaustion. It was almost too much, speaking those four words. There was nothing left to fight with.

"There is," he disagreed. "As long as you are alive, there's still hope. But you have to fight," he implored. "Find the taillights. Break them out. Stick a hand outside. Someone will see you."

Yeah, someone would see her, she thought. Adult One would catch her and kill her on the spot.

"Listen, I don't know why I'm here or who you are, but for whatever reason I am. And I'm telling you to fight." The man looked behind him, at something she couldn't see, and quickly turned back. "Do it now," he commanded and disappeared.

She was annoyed at his tone of voice. Did he think she was some sort of soldier? Despite her grumblings, she managed to turn her body, and with fingertips already sore and bloody from scratching at the closed trunk, she pulled at the carpet. Each exertion of energy cost her and she had to rest frequently, but she managed to expose her target.

It required another turn to get her feet into position to start kicking. But she was rewarded with the sound of shattering plastic and pieces falling to the ground outside the trunk. Turning her body one final time, she stuck her hand out the hole, rested her head on her arm, and waited.

"Damn it, wake up, Booth," his roommate said, kicking his mattress. "Quit talking in your sleep."

"I don't talk in my sleep," Booth groaned and rolled over, out of reach of the other man's feet. He struggled to hold on to the dream, or whatever it was he'd just experienced. There'd been a woman, no an older teen maybe, in the trunk of a car. She'd been in bad shape. He'd been trying, no commanding her to do something, anything to live.

But despite his best efforts, the dream, like most dreams tend to do, was already slipping through his fingers. Soon, it was lost, leaving nothing but a vague sense of accomplishment behind.

"I hope she got out of that car," Booth muttered as he was falling asleep, but when he awoke the next morning, he didn't remember saying it at all. During the hours, and days that followed, he was haunted by the thought that something important had happened during that night. No matter how hard he tried, Booth never recalled what it was.

She awoke in the hospital. Nurses filled her in on what happened. Sometime, after she'd stuck her hand out of the back of the car, a passerby had seen it. Help had been called, people arrested, and Brennan had been rescued, barely alive from the trunk of the car.

Foster care after that was no longer an option. She spent the rest of her teen years quietly living in a group home, isolating herself from others. Scholarships were offered and Brennan spent more hours working than asleep, but she was determined to achieve her dreams.

Every now and again, when she was in tears from exhaustion, she thought about that young man who'd appeared in the car. About his command to fight and find a way. Her science had taught her it was probably a result of lack of food and water; nothing more than a hallucination. Still, there were times she couldn't help studying the brown eyed men she met, looking for similarities between the person in front of her and her vision. In time, as she become more recognized in her career, even that habit became nothing more than a dim memory.

Until the day an FBI agent walked into her presentation and for the second time in her life, time seemed to come to a stop. She knew those eyes, that voice. And nothing that science taught her ever explained it.

 _Thanks for reading!_


	2. Chapter 2

_This was supposed to be one chapter, but this popped into my head and I had to add it. Now, I think it's complete._

"You've met her before," Avalon said, coming up behind him. In her hand was a glass of champagne. Booth turned and wondered how many she'd had.

Avalon had always creeped him out, just a little. No one should know some of the things she knew.

But today was his wedding day, and he had no desire to listen to cryptic clues from a woman who believed she was a psychic. The only desire he had was to hold his wife in his arms and share another dance with her.

Wife. It was a word he doubted he'd ever get used to.

"Who have I met before, Avalon?" Booth asked distractedly, looking over her head for Bones.

"Dr. Brennan, of course. You met her before that first time." Avalon's voice was confident. Booth brought his attention back to her. "I know I met her before we started working at the FBI. We worked a case together a year before that." The heat had been…well…so damn hot it was a miracle they hadn't combusted on the spot. But she'd left in that cab and everything fell apart.

Avalon shook her head. "You met her before that, Agent Booth. When she was not much more than a child."

Now Booth shook his head. "I think you've had enough of these," he declared, reaching out to take the glass from her hand. "I think I'd remember meeting Bones when she was younger. But our paths never crossed."

Booth turned away to go find his new wife. "Agent Booth," Avalon said again, and something in her tone had Booth stopping in his tracks. Slowly, he turned back toward her. "There was a time, when you were younger, when you were sure you saved someone, but you couldn't remember how, or why or where. You didn't understand it then, but you know what I'm talking about."

That dream. Surely she couldn't be talking about that dream he'd had when he was a young man in the military. No one knew about that dream. He didn't even know about that dream. The next morning it had been nothing more than a vague recollection. There was no way she could know.

But she was right about the feeling. He'd been convinced, upon opening his eyes, he'd done something so important that night. That what he'd done mattered. But no matter how hard or how often he tried, Booth had never been able to figure out what it was.

Not once, in all his years, had he ever told anyone. Not even Bones, and they shared almost everything. If he couldn't put into words what had taken place, there was no way he could explain it so Bones could.

Unless she already knew.

Avalon saw the knowledge pass through his eyes and nodded her head. "You saved Dr. Brennan that night. Long before she was Dr. Brennan." Avalon reached out and took her glass back from Booth. "Go find your new wife and ask her. She remembers."

"Bones knows?" he asked, unable to keep the disbelief from his voice. How could she possibly know?

"She's always known, Agent Booth." Avalon said, walking away from him. "She's always known the truth of you. Just as you have for her. Go ask her."

Watching her walk away, Booth shook his head and turned, only to see Bones standing next to him.

"Have I told you how beautiful you look?" he asked, bending his head to kiss her.

"Not in the last ten minutes or so," she said. "Is Avalon okay?"

"She told me something," Booth said vaguely, shaking his head again. He wasn't sure he wanted to mention it; bringing up such darkness on the happiest day of his life seemed wrong somehow. But he knew Bones would bug him until he gave in. "Dance with me," he said, grabbing her hand.

Brennan looked at him curiously, but allowed him to tug her onto the dance floor. Booth tucked her in close, shutting out the rest of the world, except for the two of them.

Others joined them on the dance floor, but as far as Booth was concerned, they didn't exist. The only thing that existed, that mattered for him right at that moment, was the woman in his arms.

"Are you going to tell me, Booth?" she whispered. "What did Avalon say to you that tossed you for a loop?"

His chuckle was low. "That's threw me for a loop, Bones. But I think you already knew that."

He felt her shrug. "Maybe, maybe not."

Booth pulled back just enough to see her face, her eyes. "I don't want to bring up anything from your past that would upset you. Especially not in the midst of all this," he said, using his eyes to indicate the beauty around them.

"My past can't hurt me, Booth. Especially with your arms wrapped around me. I'm safe here." Stepping on tip-toe, she pressed her lips to his. "Now tell me what that woman said to you. You know I don't believe in her supposed talents. Simple trickery is all it is."

With his cheek pressed against hers, Booth whispered the words in her ear. "She said you knew me. That we'd met before that first case. When you were in your teens, maybe."

"We didn't actually meet," Brennan said. It wasn't a firm confirmation, but it wasn't a clear denial either.

Pulling back again, Booth looked at her. "But you know what she's talking about?"

"Yes," Brennan said. Booth watched, fascinated, as her blue eyes turned stormy. "But I don't know how she knows. No one knows. Not even Angela." Her eyes turned darker as she came to a decision. "Let's go find a quiet place to sit, Booth, and I'll tell you the story."

Booth agreed, and the couple drifted away to find a place. A quiet bench in the sun was the perfect location and Brennan pulled Booth down next to her. Leaning toward him, she sighed gratefully, relieved to be off her feet.

"This isn't exactly a happy story, Booth, but it's definitely an interesting one."

"You don't have to tell it," he said, squeezing her hand.

But she shrugged in that pragmatic way she had. "It was a long time ago, and while I find it a product of a hallucination, your faith and belief in magic will allow you to find deeper meaning in it."

Intrigued, Booth was pleased she agreed to tell it. Reaching up, he brushed a tendril of hair from her face, and she leaned into the gentle touch.

"I know you remember the story I told the night we went back to pick up Sweets at his office. When Dr. Wyatt was cooking us dinner. When I broke the plate and was locked in the trunk of the car."

Brennan looked up to see Booth nod his head. Yes, he remembered. The story haunted him during his waking hours, but anytime he'd dreamt of it, he'd always gotten her out of the car in time.

"One day had passed," Brennan continued, "and the situation was getting desperate. My feet were cut from shards of the broken plate and I was severely dehydrated. At that point, I was thinking it might be easier if I just closed my eyes and didn't wake up." Seeing her husband's distressed look, Brennan reached up and patted him on the cheek. "The reason I didn't make that choice was because of a y…a hallucination that appeared."

Sure she'd been about to say the word 'you', Booth shook his head. "I wasn't there."

"No," Brennan agreed, "you weren't. But someone appeared in that car with me. Told me, commanded me, ordered me to fight my way out. And gave me an idea on how to do it."

"Break out the taillight. Stick your hand out the window. Hope someone sees you," Booth offered. "That's what I would have said."

"That's what you did say. Or my hallucination said. And it worked. I broke out the taillight and someone found me."

"And you think that hallucination was me?" Booth asked, rubbing his thumb along the back of her hand. "That's pretty far out for you, Bones."

She shrugged. "I spent a long time looking for a man with brown eyes and the voice I heard tell me how to get out of that car. I never found him," she said. Her blue eyes stared into his brown as she finished. "Until the day you walked into my lecture."

Looking back toward the reception, Brennan shrugged. "My science tells me it was a hallucination. A product of no water and the trauma I'd suffered. But it's one of the few times my science has failed me. One of the few times I think it will. Because I don't think it will ever explain how a young man with your eyes and your voice told me how to escape from that car, long before I met you."

"I had a dream that night," Booth said softly, wiping at his eyes. "My roommate woke me, said I was talking in my sleep. I could never remember what happened, not specifically. But I always felt like I'd done something important that night. I can't think of anything more important than saving my future wife."

Tired of the seriousness on a day she thought would never happen, Brennan elbowed him gently. "If you ever tell anyone," Brennan threatened, "I might have to hurt you." But she ruined the effort with a laugh.

Chuckling, Booth pulled her closer, until she was settled on his lap, rather than the bench. "I'll always come for you, Bones. No matter where you are."

She tucked her head under his chin. "I know that, Booth. I've known it since before we met."


End file.
